


Not Saying Goodbye

by Persiflage



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cuddling & Snuggling, Episode Tag, Episode: s02e13 Such Sweet Sorrow, F/F, First Kiss, Give Michael all the TLC, Hurt/Comfort, Katrina Cornwell Lives, Kissing, The Redemption of Emperor Philippa Georgiou Continues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-22 19:36:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18534106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: Alternate ending to Such Sweet Sorrow Part 1 and into the future.





	Not Saying Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Acardio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acardio/gifts).



> I don't know about anyone else, but to me the show seems to have pretty much redeemed the former Terran Emperor, Philippa Georgiou. And she *definitely* is seen to care about Michael more than anyone else except Michael's own mother.

“This is stupid.”

“What?” Michael asks testily as she and the Emperor walk down the hallways of the _Discovery_. The Terran was actually the last person she’d expected to follow her as she left the Bridge.

“You flinging yourself into the future like some galactic rubber band with a martyr complex. It doesn’t have to be like this.”

Michael frowns. She’s never been compared to a galactic rubber band before, then she shakes it off. “It does have to be like this. For a million reasons you will never understand.”

“I understand perfectly. You’re very invested in being selfless, Michael. And I’m not the only one willing to exploit that, you know.” 

“You can add this up however you want. I’m getting in that suit and I’m doing what I need to do. And if we’re both still alive when this is over, then you can talk to me about my gaping character flaws.” She starts to turn away.

“I’ll have better things to do with my time than waste it on talking about your character, flawed or otherwise.” She catches hold of Michael’s wrist. “Don’t you understand yet?” She sounds as testy as Michael had just a few moments ago.

“Understand what?”

The Terran utters a sort of growl, then pushes Michael, none too gently, against the wall and kisses her, and Michael can hardly breathe, and certainly can’t believe this is happening, but she kisses back. This woman is not _her_ Philippa, the Captain with whom she was in love for nearly seven years, but she has stood by Michael, has guarded her back, and given her more emotional support than almost anyone else. And she is here, kissing Michael like her life depends on it, and Michael feels like she’s melting in the heat of Philippa’s hunger and desire. And her own desire and hunger, which have been subdued and suppressed for so long, lights up her body, making her hyperaware of her mouth, and her nipples, and the heat and moisture gathering in her sex. 

And then Philippa pulls back, her mouth looking red and lush, and Michael remains leaning against the wall, feeling arousal thrumming through her veins as she stares at the other woman. 

“Now do you understand?” the Terran asks. “You’re literally the only person in this Universe that I care about. If it wasn’t for you, and the goodness of your heart, I’d have used Section 31 to take over the galaxy by now.”

Michael struggles to push herself off the wall, her knees feeling weak. “You’ve refrained from going rogue because of me,” she says, only half believing it.

“Of course. ‘Be good, Philippa’, you said back on Qo’noS, and because of who you are, Michael Burnham, and the way you look, I –” She makes a vague gesture. “I felt compelled to be good.” She scowls. “I may never forgive you for that, for having that kind of power over me, me who was the Emperor Philippa Georgiou Augustus Iaponius Centarius, the scourge of the Terran Empire. Famed and feared wherever I went. To be tamed by a sentimental, soft-hearted woman like you.”

She steps in and presses her mouth to Michael’s again, but it’s gentler this time, tender even, and Michael feels like she’s coming undone.

Philippa pulls her mouth free, then shifts to whisper against the shell of Michael’s ear. “You’re a goddess, Michael. And I love you.”

She steps back, her hands on Michael’s shoulders, staring intently as if memorising her face. “You’d better come back,” she says sternly. “Because I have a long list of things I want to do to and with you, and we don’t have time for any of them right now.”

Then she turns and strides away, and Michael heaves a sigh of regret before turning to continue her preparations.

MB-PG-MB-PG-MB

Michael groans her way into consciousness, feeling as if every part of her has been beaten with large hammers. 

“Gently now,” says a familiar voice, and she feels warm, careful hands touching her. 

“Dr Culber?” she asks. “What happened?”

“You did it, baby girl,” answers another, totally unexpected but longed for, voice. 

Michael forces open eyelids that feel alarmingly leaden and sees three familiar faces smiling at her. Dr Culber's smile is warm and tender, the smile he's been giving her ever since she woke up on Essof IV; the Terran Emperor stands on his right, and her smile is tinged with relief, though Michael suspects that she would deny it if she were called on it; and on Dr Culber's left is her mother, who has tears in her eyes, and a look that seems to mingle love and pride. 

“Mom,” Michael whispers, almost disbelieving her eyes. 

“Hello Michael,” Dr Burnham says.

Michael starts to reach for her mother, then winces at the sharp pull of pain. 

“Gently,” Dr Culber repeats. He picks up a hypospray and administers it to the side of her neck. “Give it a minute, Michael.”

“Is everyone else okay?” she asks. 

“There were some injuries,” Dr Culber tells her. “Some of them quite serious, but no one died, and the majority have already recovered and are on light duties.”

“You yourself took quite a beating,” Dr Burnham tells her. “It's been three days.” 

“Three days?” Michael repeats, shocked. 

“I've had to heal you in stages,” Dr Culber says. “Major injuries first, then working through to the minor ones – lacerations and small fractures.” He nods at her bandaged hands 

“You were lucky to survive,” Georgiou says, and glares a bit, as if Michael has no business dying without her permission. She abruptly remembers their conversation in the hallway and the way Philippa had kissed her, and she feels a flush of heat through her body. She has no idea what her face is doing, but the Terran suddenly smirks as if she knows exactly what's going through Michael's mind. 

“When can I get out of here?” she asks Dr Culber. 

“Not for a few more hours yet, I'm afraid. I need to make sure you've healed properly. Are you hungry?”

“Ravenous,” Michael agrees, astonished to recognise the fact. 

“I'll fetch you something,” Philippa says, before Michael's mom can do so. She strides out and Michael can't help raising an eyebrow at the Terran Emperor being so accommodating. When she looks at her mom, though, Dr Burnham only smiles. 

“There goes a woman who is utterly devoted to you. She's begun to embrace some of your ideals, too.”

“Um,” Michael says helplessly. 

Her mom chuckles and Dr Culber says,” I'll leave you to chat,” then he disappears in the direction of his office. 

“You like Philippa,” Michael observes, only a little surprised. 

“I do,” Dr Burnham agrees with an easy smile. “But it's not hard to like someone who's as devoted to my baby girl as I am, or as she is. So yes, I approve of her and I am very happy for you. You deserve to be happy and I'm certain that she will make you so.” 

“Thank you,” Michael whispers, feeling a lump in her throat and tears pricking her eyes. 

Dr Burnham smiles, then moves in closer and carefully wraps her arms around Michael. She lifts her arms a little stiffly because of the aches, and wraps her arms around her mother, burying her face in her mom's neck. 

“Mom,” she says, feeling tears beginning to fall. 

“Baby girl,” her mom whispers, tightening her arms gradually. “I am so proud of you, my darling. You are so smart and brave. But promise me you won't do anything like that ever again.” 

“I'll try not to,” Michael says, choking a little on her tears. 

“I'd appreciate it,” Dr Burnham says, and Michael can hear that her voice is thick with emotion. 

They remain wrapped in each other, silent but feeling so much, until Philippa comes in carrying a tray of food and Michael catches the familiar scents of several of her favourite foods. Her stomach growls and her mom chuckles, then eases back from her.

“I promised I’d go and help out your friends Jett and Sylvia down in Engineering. And that I’d let them know once you were awake.”

“No visitors yet,” Philippa says with a pointed look.

“As Dr Culber himself advised just now,” Gabrielle says. “I’ll leave it to you to keep my baby girl from doing anything rash.”

“Mom!” Michael protests.

Gabrielle waves, then walks away, and Michael looks back at Philippa. 

“And how did you fare?” Michael asks.

The other woman shrugs as she uncovers various dishes on the tray she’s laid across Michael’s lap. “Nhan and I fought Control after Leland transported aboard the ship when _Discovery_ lowered her shields for you and Spock to leave.”

“Wait, Leland’s here.” She starts to push away the tray, mind racing. “The Sphere data –” 

“Stop panicking, Michael,” Philippa says immediately. “Leland is dead. The Control nanobots were forced out of his body when I magnetised the Spore Drive cube. And we vaporised and destroyed them.”

“Oh.” She swallows. “Thank you.”

“Don’t worry, you can thank me properly later, once you get out of here.”

“Properly?” Michael repeats. She thinks she can probably guess what Philippa means, but she wouldn’t mind having it spelled out.

“Properly,” Philippa replies. She leans in, one hand clasping Michael’s shoulder and kisses her, and Michael groans into her mouth, feeling as if the Terran’s set fire to the very blood in her veins.

Just as she’s becoming breathless, Philippa pulls away, leaving Michael lying back against the pillows, her chest heaving and her body thrumming with desire. 

“Eat,” the Terran says, her tone stern. Her glance is lustful, Michael thinks, and she pulls her own eyes away and stares at the plates in front of her. 

“Thank you, Philippa.” She grabs for the cutlery, then concentrates on eating, and Philippa sits beside her bed and reports on the state of _Discovery_ and her crew, almost as if Michael’s the captain, not Saru.

“Oh and we have a bonus,” Philippa says as Michael finishes her dessert. 

“A bonus?” Michael asks.

“Admiral Katrina Cornwell is aboard.”

Michael frowns at her. “How? She was supposed to be with Captain Pike, back on the _Enterprise_.”

“Yes. Control fired a photon torpedo at the other ship, but it was deactivated when it hit the saucer. The Admiral and Number One tried to stop it from being activated, but they couldn’t. The blast door leading to the compartment in which it was lodged had jammed, so the Admiral chose to activate the door manually from inside before the torpedo blew. Captain Pike had her transported off the _Enterprise_ onto the shuttle that was commandeered by that child Queen, Po, and we picked her up before we came into the future.”

Michael smiles at the news. She likes Katrina Cornwell. 

Philippa removes her tray and Michael stifles a yawn, suddenly weary. “You should get some rest,” the Terran says. 

“I’ve been unconscious for three days,” Michael protests, admittedly only half-heartedly.

“And you are still healing.”

“Alright, alright.” Michael shifts down the bed some more, then watches in surprise as the Terran strips off her long leather coat, then removes her boots. “What are you doing?”

“Joining you,” Philippa says, in a tone that implies it’s obvious.

Michael watches in some fascination as the Terran fastidiously arranges her coat over the chair, and her boots beneath it, before she climbs up onto the bio bed beside Michael.

“Never took you for a cuddler,” Michael teases as Philippa tugs her close.

“I’m not,” the other woman says, sounding very grumpy. “You’re the first person I’ve ever done this with.”

“I am honoured,” Michael says quietly. “Thank you, Philippa.”

“Go to sleep,” the Terran says, glaring.

Michael smiles, then leans in to kiss her softly.

“Stop that,” Philippa says, pulling away. “Otherwise I am going to forget you’re not fully healed and simply ravish you.” Michael smirks, making the other woman growl. “Behave.”

She can’t help laughing just a little. She feels a bit giddy, knowing that she brought her mission off safely, that they came through this alive and with the ship more or less intact, that her mom is here with her, and that Philippa is also here, alive and warm, and in her bed.

She settles against the other woman and closes her eyes, allowing herself to bask in Philippa’s comforting presence.

The future may not be so bad after all, she decides as sleep steals over her.

_*** Transmission Ends ***_


End file.
